


Something just like this

by TheGoddessComplex



Series: Absolute Beginners [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Attack Aftermath, Blood Allusions, M/M, Male Friendship, POV First Person, Reunions, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Romantic Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 00:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoddessComplex/pseuds/TheGoddessComplex
Summary: Following the Borussia Dortmund bus attack and Marc Bartra's subsequent injuries, Sergi Roberto finds himself in the German city, facing matters he and Marc hadn't questioned before about their relationship, as well as his own place in a world that has very recently crowned him a hero- and might need him again.





	Something just like this

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm back- centuries later, but still alive and well :P
> 
> Here's a fic in the same Verse, with a different style (from third person to first) and another ship. Given recent events, I found myself writing this. I hope it pleases you guys.
> 
> Once more, it isn't needed to read the previous fics, unless you want to know why Lionel didn't travel with everyone else back to Barcelona, attack or no attack, or you want to see more of my writing. That being said, I am leaving in this fic some grounds to the situation the non straight players live in- a deeply ironic one.
> 
> Title's the same as The Chainsmokers ft. Coldplay song. In fact, a few lyrics are present. All credits for those go to Johnny Buckland, Will Champion, Andrew Taggart, Guy Berryman and Chris Martin.
> 
> (more notes in the end, if anyone's interested in the Behind the Scenes of this fic)

They didn’t tell us until after the match was over, and I couldn’t complain. I knew why they’d done it- so that we’d be focused to do the exact thing we had just failed to do- defeat Juventus. We didn’t hold any bad blood towards them- even if Dani wasn’t there, they’d still have one of the best defenses in Europe, two world-class strikers, not counting the wonderful likes in their midfield and let alone the legend that is Buffon, as Marc André loves to gush over again and again (I have no idea how Rafa and Sam can take him, regardless of the truth of that statement). Anyway, we knew they’d be hard to beat and as it happened, we couldn’t. We came into the dressing room frustrated with ourselves, Leo in particular (he barely acknowledged Paulo, and given how they were before the match I don’t think last international break was that terrible on them) but as Sam quipped, I’d just have to be a hero again.

I chuckled at the notion. I wish I didn’t have to be. I wish we were just going home to settle things.

Of course, all of this paled when the Míster told us about the explosions and Marc. I admit I freaked out a bit. Okay, as soon as I heard he got injured I went straight for the shower and refused to get out. Sure, Geri was the one who told me the exact extent of Marc’s injury, but even if the glass hadn’t cut his legs, his eyes or his life, I was still stressed. I think I was even crying- or it was the shower. It’s all a blur.

“He might have had to undergo a surgery, but he’ll be fine. He’ll recover. He’ll keep playing”.

“I just want to know who was the bastard who did this”.

He stayed quiet for a while. We had no idea who’d fucking done this, but I hardly cared, to be honest. I was just angry, I needed someone I could punch this out on, and the walls of Juventus Stadium weren’t enough.

“Me too. But at least he’s still with us. Many other victims don’t have that luxury”.

He sat with me until everyone had left for the bus. We were the last ones to go, hoping by then the journalists would be satisfied with the interviews they got. I went in there as fast as I could, barely noticing Dani, who had waited outside to give me a hug. Regardless of the pain, and how by circumstances my memories of him would always be linked to my memories of Marc, I welcomed it, and sank even deeper in it. I then jumped into the bus. I really needed to go home, just as much as I needed to see Marc with my very own eyes. I hated the Míster for a second, knowing how more playing minutes could have kept him home, could have kept him safe. But eventually I just fell asleep.

***

_"I've been reading books of old_   
_The legends and the myths_   
_Achilles and his gold_   
_Hercules and his gifts_   
_Spiderman's control_   
_And Batman with his fists_   
_And clearly I don't see myself upon that list"_

***

Home didn’t feel like the right place to be as the morning faded and my senses came back to me. All I could think was how I should have been there, with Marc, as he went through the surgery. Sure, we had very similar jobs and my match wasn’t going to be cancelled because I had a significant other in the operation table. Even if I phoned the in-laws as soon as senses seemed to return, I still felt like I was missing on a duty. So I booked a flight to Dortmund, the sooner it left the merrier. I didn’t feel like asking Ney for his private jet, not because he wouldn’t have given it to me (he was also friends with Marc, regardless of his entourage tendencies, and even if he weren’t he knew about us) but because I preferred to be alone on this. Time would come for the eventual reunion, one where hopefully none of us would play against any of us but could instead share a laugh and a small practice as we all used to. But now, I needed to be there for Marc.

I didn’t care if people found out- we had never come out publicly, for obvious reasons- or started suspecting. Very homophobic people would always pull the “they’re very good friends” card. And others would mind their own business. Everyone knew how worried we all were. The least they could do was guess the visits would come in time. My being the first said nothing.

Following lunch, I was gone again- this time, to the place where the person I had felt truly at home with since I was eleven years old had wound up.

***

The big surprise was at the hospital.  His parents weren’t in the floor, but I guessed they had decided to give some time to the players. Who was in charge then? No real clue. But the twist was in the visitors. Not only were guys like Durm and Bürki in the waiting room, but also Dani and Lionel. Seemed they had made their own convoy. Good in one way, as it was easier to hide a romantic relationship among seven friendships, but bittersweet as I realised how most of those guys had bigger shots at keeping Marc company than I could, given how we still had the Real Sociedad game.

“You okay?” Dani asked, after another welcome hug.

“As much as I can be, with the aftershock and all”.

“I can only imagine. Marc will be glad to see you”.

“He asked about you” Durm said, his tone also showing how barely recovered he was. I didn’t know how they’d still managed to play a game, but they had, even trying to turn up the score. They were actual heroes. “He was sorry about the match, but looks forward to another remontada”.

“Well I bet he’ll score the final goal again” Dani quipped, making us share some laughter.

“Anyway, can I go see him?” I asked. Their faces turned to worry, or guilt. They looked at Lionel, hoping he’d say something. It was the same as us when he wore the captain armband.

“They’re only letting people go in one by one. Right now, Paulo is there. He should be out in no time” Lio said, with more calm than he should have had. I scoffed.

“Does it bother you? You know they became friends in Dubai”.

I knew he was stressed about the whole AFA situation (Masche had shared some details in the locker room, but it was confusing) and managing a position he never asked for. I also knew he was feeling guilty about the loss- he always does. But I wasn’t in the mood to put up with his bullshit, fuck if he was the best player in the world.

“Oh I’m sorry Lionel, I didn’t know I was supposed to be happy after flying to go see my boyfriend but still having to wait until yours- who only knows him because of some sheik’s New Year’s Eve wealth demonstration- leaves the bloody room. But I will be civil and wait. Just not happily, just like you after the match and the affection you showed him”.

“Easy, easy” Dani held Lionel, just as Paulo appeared from the hallway. So there he was, the apple of discord. He looked confused.

“Oh, hi Sergi”.

“Hi”. We shook hands.

“I’m sorry about Marc”.

“It’s cool”.

“Do you want to see him? Roman here was next but I think, you know, since you’re…”

“It’s okay, I’ll see him later” Bürki intervened, with some timidity and stutter. “Or tomorrow. You guys take your time, I mean…”

“Thanks guys” I looked at them, both nodding, Paulo smiling. It wasn’t his fault to have such a messed up boyfriend- though it was mostly my anger thinking. I went quickly through the hallway, turning around, finding Marc.

He was looking better, still dressed in the clothes for the tranquilizing selfie. But he was still in a small room, fit for the tranquility ambiance the doctors were looking for. He had a cast all around his right arm, and another in his left wrist. But he was alive, and as lively as he’d always been.

“Took you longer than the Turin guys and shagger” he joked.

“Hahaha. I was out of my mind. I should’ve left for here as soon as I learnt about it”.

“It’s okay, you had a job to do. Not like you fully did it, but still”.

As annoying as ever. But that was the guy I’d fallen for when I was a teen and had stayed with since then.

“Bloody jerk”.

“You know you’ll need another remontada”.

“And you’ll eat it like the #LuchoOut fucker you are”.

“Will you spank Dybalita like your Crackòvia self did to Di María?” He winked as he said so, kinky as ever. I was glad the explosions hadn’t taken that away from him.

“I look forward to it” I leaned in for a kiss, and it was the sweetest we’d had in quite some time. In most visits since he left for Dortmund our first kisses had been raw and passionate, but the circumstances deserved a change of pace. I sat in front of him, pulling another purple chair and stroking his left hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh, I don’t miss the crystals in my arms a lot” he smiled sadly. “But I won’t deny it was scary. There was a lot of blood. I feared the worst. Roman was next to me- he was shaking. I think people were crying too- it was confusing as well. Plus, I was bleeding the fuck out- I don’t know how the club doctors were so quick”.

“That’s their job”.

“Still, it was- why did that happen?” He shook his head, voice lower. “We haven’t done anything wrong as a team. And if I were a terrorist, I’d rather blow up a stadium. They nearly did so in France”.

I didn’t know what to say. Suicidal girls on television were more open about their motives than whoever had set in the explosions. But there were police people focused on solving those things- and even if they were all corrupted, that wasn’t my job. What I had to do was be there for my fiance, as much as I could. Sure, the guys seemed nice enough, Bürki a bit more shaken, but he had been next to Marc. I couldn’t blame his trauma or fear. But we still didn’t know each other that well. I wasn’t sure Marc could consider them family yet, anyway. He hadn’t been there for that long.

“The guys were cool, you know”.

“Yeah, I just… Maybe we should spend a week in group, somewhere. I mean, I know you know them and it’s amazing but…”

“Sergi, I’m good, I swear!”

“Fuck, you can call me a cliché. Can’t believe it took me this to start actually considering it”.

“Well, for a long distance boyfriend, you’re pretty rad. I can barely feel the distance. You always pop up”.

“Yeah, but I never really bothered to know your friends beyond what I see on TV. I mean, is Pulisic truly the next Lio?”

We laughed playfully.

“I just… I should be able to trust the people who are close to you when I can’t be. Who knows when we’ll be in the same place again. Until then, I should be able to know you’ll be in safe hands in between the time it takes your family to get here”.

“You mean for an hour or so?” He raised an eyebrow. “Haha, it’s cool, they’re not hopeless idiots”.

I sighed. “Dude, what if something happened to me and I’m with, say, Paco?”

His eyes widened. “Okay, not fair”.

We shared a laugh again. In a normal occasion we’d probably toast to a smoothie right then, but I didn’t trust the hospital ones, no matter how cool or top class the place was.

“I’ll arrange something” he proposed. “Some sushi soirée, I don’t know. I have all the time in the world”.

“I wish I did”.

“If you don’t change your ways, you sure will. Dani and Paulo will make sure of that”.

“Shut up. I don’t throw you a cushion just because you’re injured”.

We were smiling again, like idiots. It was shameful how it had taken a bloody terrorist to bring us together like that. Oh well, I thrived on his failure to cause pain.

“I do feel kinda bad for the cunt, you know” Marc said, reading my mind. “He wanted to cause misery, and all he accomplished was some broken bones and me remembering I’m not alone”.

I smiled, fondly. “That’s kind of your club’s motto”.

“Yeah” he smiled and kissed me. He then got up. “You have to go back soon?”

“Not really. I guess Lucho could excuse me”.

“Dude, don’t. I still want at least a doblete”.

“Ha, well, I can leave tomorrow morning, it’s okay. Are your parents in the cafeteria?”

“Yeah, you go chat. I was thinking on bribing the nurses and letting us have our own sushi night”.

Oh, he fucking knew me.

“I look forward to that, love”.

“Haha, yeah”.

“I’ll let Roman have some time with you. Just don’t fuck around”.

“I should say the same to you, with all those new kids”.

I widened my eyes and he cracked laughing. I guessed being with someone for pretty much your whole adult life gave you that level of synchronicity. In a way, I looked forward to our retirement so we could announce what had truly been going on for the past twenty years or so and then see their faces, all confused, luckily most accepting as we walked down the aisle.

Then again, there was a long way to go until then.

***

_"Where d'you wanna go?_   
_How much you wanna risk?_   
_I'm not looking for somebody_   
_With some superhuman gifts_   
_Some superhero_   
_Some fairytale bliss_   
_Just something I can turn to_   
_Somebody I can kiss_   
_I want something just like this"_

***

As we left for Barcelona, Leo finally apologised. He opened up about everything, which was rare since I wasn’t exactly Luis. Lio barely opens up to people. But there he was, explaining the whole AFA debacle, the mistreatment of Bauza, the uncertainty of the future.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this”.

“You want me to get you, it’s okay”.

“I don’t know, mate- maybe. It’s just…”

I had a feeling the sentence would have been completed had I been Luis, Geri, Dani, Kun, Paulo. But I wasn’t, and it was cool. Getting to play with the greatest of all time was a unique experience, and even if my name was forgotten or rendered a strange trivia question (I can already see future kids failing when asked who scored the 6-1, being so sure Messi had done so), nothing would take that away from me. Or seeing the human beneath. He was the best, but he was also a big piece for our goals, and we had to make sure we made those- with or without him. The remontada had been like that.

“Leo, you’ll always be my captain. It’s just been a stressful week for all of us. We’ll bounce back- we always do”.

He looked to the front and smiled.

“Guess it is true, Sergi- you are the most reliable of the team”.

“Because I can play in any position possible?” I laughed.

“Try out being a goalie”.

“Haha, wow. Lionel Messi, cracking a joke”.

“Don’t you remember the interview? I can be a fun guy”.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re also a freak who pees sitting down”.

“Why don’t more people do that?”

“Because it’s weird? Only the girls have an excuse”.

One day, Marc and I would be together in the same space again. But until then, I would seize my experiences in this club, as part of this. This was my first dream, and nothing- no attack, no losses, no defeats- would take that away from me.

“I’m sorry, Leo. I shouldn’t have reacted like that”.

“I shouldn’t have minded your scoff”.

“I need to appreciate your intelligence job”.

“What? I would never use Paulo as an information source!”

I laughed. I couldn’t believe he’d fallen for that.

Still, there was a (not so) long way to go until that match took place. Until then, we could laugh, we could work, we could be a team, we could be a family for as long as the club willed.

Part of me wanted it to be forever.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I have no way of knowing if Marc Bartra truly is in the #LuchoOut crowd. Either way, it was meant by Sergi as a joke (especially considering he left during his tenure).
> 
> So yeah, this fic deals with the aftermath of the recent attack to the Borussia Dortmund bus. In a lesser scale, it's also about how Barcelona finds itself once again in need of a remontada (this fan isn't happy about it at all). But so it goes. Put both things together and Sergi Roberto felt like the perfect embodiment of that stress, so following his perspective was the natural choice.
> 
> I was originally going to write Messala again, and while I might do so, in case anything contradicts what is established here (Lionel got stressed about the recent AFA debacle and took it on Paulo but they made up at the latter's flat), it won't go. You know how characters, in a way, write themselves, and that discussion might take a different route. So this is a corset in a way. The reason that fic isn't what's being published is not only the attack taking top priority (some things needed to be left there- Marc's actual open letter on Instagram led to the closing points, as you might have seen), but also me trying not to be typecast as a writer of only a certain ship. I might even venture out of football RPF (?), but then again, only if the story wants to be written.
> 
> Once more, I'm open to criticism as it helps me improve. I apologize if I got any Dortmund player wrong- when it comes to Europe, Barça and Juve are what I focus on the most. I also know some Atleti courtesy of Grizi, but not as much. To Dortmund fans- I'm sorry about the attack and UEFA's money love, but my best wishes for Wednesday.
> 
> If you want to find me on Tumblr, I'm thinkingoverloves there.


End file.
